


Keep Them on a Leash

by titaniumplatedspine



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eliot and Quentin get some counseling, Eliot's addiction issues, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Made up Magic cuz I write what I want, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Slow Burn, is it graphic, is there murder yes, not especially, stupid pining boys, very very loosely inspired by The Butterfly Garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-25 22:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniumplatedspine/pseuds/titaniumplatedspine
Summary: Eliot meets boy. Eliot pines. Eliot gets his shit together. Boy gets kidnapped by a infamous serial killer. What does Eliot do now?





	1. All You Have is Your Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoughtsappear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/gifts).



> A gift for my love, the wind beneath my wings, my true blue, my little persimmon tartlet. Happy Birthday!!!

Eliot was twenty three when he fell in love. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t wanted it, but it took him all the same. He showed up to the library and found someone in his favorite napping spot (and really, what did the library expect when they provided all those bean bags?) and it was downhill from there. 

Quentin was all long hair, hunched shoulders, and muttered words that Eliot had to lean in to catch because Quentin just would not look him in the eye. The first day Eliot found him there he offered to share the beanbag with a lazy eye up and down his body, and Quentin fled with a flush on his cheeks. Eliot was _dying_ to see how far it traveled down his body. 

Eliot found him again the next week, earbuds in and two books floating in the air around him while he scrambled to type a paper. He looked like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and Eliot decided it would be better to safely retreat.

The next time Eliot found him there, Quentin was out cold, fast asleep with a copy of Popper’s exercises on his chest. He was pretty like this, head tipped back and easy to see without his curtain of hair to hide behind. Eliot was tempted to let him stay, but he also really wanted a nap. He kicked Quentin’s foot, and Quentin opened one eye to see it was Eliot, and with a soft grunt awkwardly scooted himself over and lazily waved at the other half of the beanbag he’d left free. Eliot was a little surprised, but happy to take up the other half of the bag. About five minutes into his nap Quentin had rolled over into his chest and made himself quite comfortable. They both jerked awake thirty minutes later to the alarm from Quentin’s phone, and Quentin had reverted back into his shy, awkward self, but Eliot found he rather liked it.

The next week Quentin wasn’t there. 

The one after that found Quentin sitting hunched in a miserable ball, shaky, with dark circles under bloodshot eyes and Eliot’s stomach sank. He carefully curled in the spot next to him and offered a cigarette that Quentin took but couldn’t manage to light. Eliot did it for him and just sat, waiting to see what Quentin would do.

“It’s my dad,” Quentin finally offered, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him, “He’s, uh, been sick for a long time. Cancer. And magic can’t fix that. Last week was the funeral.”

Quentin broke off there, a sob choking out his voice, and Eliot wrapped a cautious arm around him. Quentin leaned into his shoulder, gripping his shirt and crying softly. Eliot let him cry, making soothing noises into all that hair he loved, now lank and tangled. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name and I’m here-”

“Eliot. I’m Eliot. And don’t worry about it. I bond fast.”

Quentin offered him a shaky chuckle and moved to get up, but Eliot squeezed the arm around him so Quentin settled back in, “I’m Quentin.”

==

It seemed like it should have been simple from there, but it wasn’t. Eliot and Quentin’s friendship was easy once Quentin got over himself a little bit. He still flushed at Eliot’s suggestive comments, still hid behind too long hair when he was nervous, but for the most part he looked Eliot in the eyes when he talked to him, and Eliot delighted in the snark he knew most people never got to see. Quentin had grown to accept Eliot’s presence on the other half of the bean bag chair while he studied, and more often than not he curled around Eliot when he took his own nap. Even his meeting with Margo had been relatively smooth, and it wasn’t long before Margo was stocking her cupboards with Quentin’s favorite tea and taking him shopping for some clothes that didn’t look like they came from the “dumpster of a nursing home.”

All of this was easy. What wasn’t so simple was Alice. 

Alice, like Quentin, was a first year grad student at Brakebills. She was blonde, and clever, and more than a little pretentious. Eliot found her far too screechy for his tastes, and Margo had labelled her a nervous breakdown in the making, but Quentin was for some reason hopelessly enamored. Eliot wasn’t sure if Quentin and Alice were actually together or not, but Quentin doted upon her. He insisted on inviting her to their study sessions (she never came, just as well since they drank more than studied), brought her breakfast and coffee during their shared classes, and when Eliot caught her fleeing Quentin’s room one morning Quentin was so relaxed he didn’t even complain when Margo made him change four times before she’d be seen in public with him. It was a little disgusting, and Eliot was not jealous of the blonde bitch no matter what Margo said.

Eliot just didn’t like the change she brought out in Quentin. Post coital Quentin had been relaxed sure, but Alice wasn’t around for that. When she was Quentin retreated more heavily into the insecure, mumbling man Eliot had first met. When Quentin spoke of classes with Alice, his speech was peppered with “Alice said” and “Alice told me” in a way that made Eliot think Alice didn’t care very much about what Quentin had to say.

“Alice, Alice, Alice blah blah blah. Does she let you speak Coldwater, or do you have to ask her permission?” Margo had asked one night. They had convinced Quentin to join them for a night out, and the drinks had made Quentin loose and soft in a way he wasn’t normally. Quentin flushed and looked down at his drink, mumbling something to the table neither Eliot or Margo could catch. Eliot frowned. 

“Be nice, Bambi.” He chastised her, and reached under the table to squeeze Quentin’s knee reassuringly. Quentin startled a little, but met Eliot’s eyes with a grateful smile. Another drink in, and Margo decided they should dance, and Eliot was pleased when Quentin joined them without protest. He danced fearlessly, if more than a little clumsily, with the both of them, and hadn’t shied away once from Eliot when Margo had abandoned them briefly for a backroom hook up. 

After they’d returned to Eliot and Margo’s apartment, Eliot had poured another round of drinks and they’d all ended up curled on the couch watching a movie. Eliot was trying to ignore the skin of Quentin’s stomach that peeked out between Margo’s oversized floral shirt and Eliot’s too long flannel sleeping pants. Quentin should have looked like a damn mess, but his mussed hair and sparkling eyes gave Eliot _feelings_. 

“But really Coldwater, what _do_ you see in the walking embodiment of a stick up the ass?” Apparently Margo wasn’t going to let this one drop, and Eliot’s glare was not deterring her.

Quentin had been confused by Margo’s question, and she’d kicked him in the side to gain his attention before she asked again, “Alice, blonde robot with the grandma dresses? What’s your deal with her?”

“My deal? I, uh…” Quentin flushed and stammered, shooting Eliot a pleading look, but Eliot was too busy downing his drink to see him. Also, he was maybe a teeny tiny bit way too invested in the answer to this question. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen her walk of shame from your building, so what’s the deal? You guys dating?” Margo demanded again, and Eliot was gratified at the way Quentin shook his head immediately.

“No, I just thought she needed someone to be nice to her. You know what happened to her brother, and everyone just stared at her the first few days.”

“So you decided to be nice to her with your penis. I respect that, Coldwater.” 

Quentin squeaked and managed to fall off the couch shaking his head, “Margo! That’s not it! You’re making me sound so creepy! I don’t know, once in a while we hook up. I think she just uses it as stress relief honestly.”

“So you’re telling me the next time El or I is stressed out all we have to do is-”

“Oh Margo, you’re scaring the baby,” Eliot intervened before she could take that any further. Margo shot him a vicious smirk, but Quentin shot him a grateful look from the floor, and Eliot reached out and ran his fingers through Quentin’s hair. He didn’t think about Quentin’s position on the floor at his feet, or the way Quentin sighed and leaned against Eliot’s knee as he settled back against the couch. He worked very hard to stare at the movie, but at the end of the night he couldn’t remember a single thing about it. 

==

Everyone knew about Alice’s brother, Charlie, in the way everyone knew about Ted Bundy or Hitler. No one knew the exact details, but two years ago something had happened at Brakebills, resulting in half the third year class going missing, and most of the other half dead on the floor. The only clues left behind were a cloud of butterflies and a smiley face on the mirror. There had been a couple more disappearances since, but it was hard to say for sure if they were the real thing. One was a Traveler who might have just been lost. One was a murder the killer tried to cover up. Even with the uncertainty, it was said there were at least a dozen victims who had disappeared in the past few years. Their bodies were never found, and it was a nightmare for the families left behind. They’d never figured out who or what was behind the disappearances, but most just called it the beast. 

==

Quentin didn’t show up for their unofficial study/nap session in the library one day, and Eliot was disappointed but shrugged it off. Quentin had skipped before, although he normally sent a text message ahead of time. When Margo called him that afternoon to say Quentin had also blown off their planned lunch date and shopping trip (Margo needed a dress, and she liked how Quentin told her she looked gorgeous in everything and carried her bags) Eliot grew concerned. He walked across campus to the building Quentin lived in and made his way up five flights of stairs because the elevator was always broken. 

“Q, you in there?” he called out, knocking on the door. He didn’t get an answer, but it was nothing to spell the door open. He pushed it open, calling out again and hearing movement from the living room.

The room was dark except for the light of the TV, and Quentin was curled on the floor in front of it. Eliot picked his way through the room, and knelt of the floor gingerly. He heard a sniffle, then his lap was full of a weeping Quentin. He was more than alarmed at this point, and he wrapped his arms around Quentin and soothed him as best as he knew how until the other boy’s crying abated and he pointed at the news.

It wasn’t a pretty story. A coven of Hedge witches had been attacked. Most of the members were dead. The leader, an expelled Brakebills student named Marina, and another girl named Julia were both missing. Eliot recognized Julia’s smiling face from the photos around Quentin’s apartment. She had been his best friend since childhood. The scene had been covered in butterflies, and a smiley face made of blood had been drawn across the door. 

==

In the wake of his friend’s disappearance, Quentin’s not-relationship with Alice imploded. She was too harsh, too impatient for a grieving Quentin, and by the way she refused to look at him when she passed by and the way his mouth tightened whenever her name was mentioned Eliot had to assume it wasn’t a pleasant ending. 

Quentin spent more and more time at Eliot and Margo’s apartment, to the point Margo suggested he break his lease and they could just turn the living room into a bedroom. Her alternative suggestion that Quentin bunk up with her or Eliot, or even both of them caused Quentin to turn approximately the same shade of red as a fire engine, and Eliot to choke on his lo mein. She laughed at them both and winked at Eliot from behind Quentin’s back. He waited until Quentin looked away to flip her off.

==

Quentin had depression. 

It was a fact of life, and something he lived with everyday. Quentin had mentioned early on in their friendship that he had quit his meds at the suggestion of the faculty when he was accepted into the graduate program. They felt the medication would “interfere” with his ability to perform at his best. Eliot thought it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. 

Despite Eliot’s very vocal misgivings, Quentin persisted in not taking his medication. Most days he managed just fine. Sometimes Eliot could tell he was a little off, and made sure to bring Quentin snacks for in between his classes, and invite him to their apartment more often than normal. 

Then were the really bad days. Quentin didn’t have them often, but when they hit Quentin couldn’t be persuaded to leave his bed. The first time Quentin disappeared on him for a weekend, Eliot and Margo broke into his apartment to find that he clearly hadn’t moved in hours, if not days. Margo had tipped his mattress over and forced him into a shower, while Eliot cleaned his room and made him some soup. From that point on, they insisted on daily check ins. If Quentin missed one, it meant one of them showed up at his apartment and stayed until he was doing better.

After Julia disappeared, there were a lot of bad days. Quentin normally forced himself to go to class, but never seemed to have the energy left to take care of himself. It was the middle of winter, and both Eliot and Margo had taken to carrying an extra hat and set of gloves for when they inevitably came across Quentin underdressed and shivering somewhere on campus. It took a lot of extra care on their parts, but Quentin finally seemed to come back to himself just before finals, and pulled it together for all his tests.

The week ended with a body in the fountain. 

This time, Eliot was the one falling apart. 

==

“His name was Mike.” Margo whispered across the bed. She and Quentin lay on either side of a blacked out Eliot, taking turns making sure he was still breathing. It was the third night in a row they'd done this. “He and El hooked up a few times in undergrad, El thought it was maybe a real thing, but turns out Mike was an in the closet Republican asshole. El fucked his best friend in Mike's bed and never spoke to him again.”

“And now he ends up dead in the fountain? El wouldn't have-”

“Q,” she stopped him before he could say anything else, “Mike was part of the class that went missing a couple years ago.”

“Oh god,” he barely managed to breathe out because this was so much worse than he'd thought. Mike was the first body after almost three years, but all that meant was there was more to come. 

==

Quentin had decided a few months prior not to go home for the holidays. After his dad died it hadn’t felt like there was much to return to, and even before Julia disappeared they hadn’t been speaking after a stupid fight when she dropped out of college. Eliot never went home either, but Margo did have plans this year, and Quentin was never more grateful he had chosen to stay behind. 

“Are you sure your cell phone is charged? I’m going to be pissed if my best friend dies because your phone was dead and you couldn’t call 911.” Margo was fretting, and driving Quentin a little crazy, but he knew why she was worried. It had been a week since Mike’s body was found in the fountain, and Eliot wasn’t doing much better. He spent his days in a haze of drugs and booze, and Quentin and Margo were shadowing him constantly to make sure he didn’t go too far. 

Margo had already delayed her departure, but she had to go, and Quentin had moved into the apartment while she was gone. She’d told him to use her bedroom as long as he didn’t touch her underwear drawer, but they had both been sleeping in Eliot’s room for the past week anyways. 

Finally, Margo was out the door and Quentin was alone with a sleeping Eliot. It was early in the morning, so he would be asleep for at least another couple hours. Quentin made his way through the apartment, and took every bottle of booze and pills he could find and locked them all in Margo’s closet. Then he spelled the closet and bedroom door closed. It wouldn’t stop Eliot from getting to them, but it would slow him down. 

Then Quentin crawled into Eliot’s bed, checked to make sure he was breathing okay and comfortable, and just waited. Eliot and Margo had been there for him during his worst days, and he figured it was time for him to return the favor. 

Quentin had learned over the past few months, and the past week especially, that Eliot was a very clingy sleeper. He had the tendency to grab whoever was nearby and then trap them by wrapping them up in his absurdly long limbs. Quentin who tended to be a fairly cuddly sleeper himself had adjusted to this easily, and more than once they’d woken from a shared nap in the library curled around each other. Margo, who preferred to sprawl and stretch across the entire bed, would occasionally curl up with them at the beginning of the night, but always retreated to her own bed before falling asleep. Quentin had spent the past week curled up in either Eliot’s bed with him, or on occasion the surprisingly comfortable chair by the window where Quentin knew Eliot did most of his actual studying. 

It didn’t take long before Eliot was turning in bed, shifting until he had managed to smush his face into Quentin’s shoulder. He tucked his leg in between Quentin’s thighs, and wrapped a hand in his shirt before he settled again, snoring softly. Quentin tucked his nose into Eliot’s hair and decided to enjoy the moment, before he dozed off as well.

==

The peace of the morning hadn’t lasted long. Eliot had woken up, and immediately gone looking for a drink. He hadn’t found it, and short of physically pushing past Quentin who was keeping him from both Margo’s room and leaving the apartment he wasn’t going to get anything. He was shaking and he was furious. Quentin was shaking and determined. They were at a stalemate. 

“Get out of my way Q.” Eliot snarled down at Quentin who was resolutely blocking the door to Margo's room. 

“No.”

And Quentin was so beautiful in his determination that Eliot ached, but he kept his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He couldn't be trusted to touch something as beautiful as Quentin, not unless he wanted to break him. 

“Q..” Eliot said in warning, hands twitching at his side. 

“You're not the only one hurting!” Quentin yelled in his face, head thrown back so he could meet Eliot's eyes, “The beast still has my friend too!”

And Eliot froze. Because while he'd known about Julia, he hadn't thought to put it together with his current confusing mess of guilt and rage. He couldn't stop himself from putting it together now, confronted with the tears glimmering at the corner of Quentin's eyes and his very real grief. Quentin hadn't lost Julia yet, but if this was any indication of things to come he would. 

“Aww, fuck Q,” Eliot mumbled and Quentin recognized the fight had left Eliot and slumped forward. Eliot wrapped his arms around him, and rested his chin on the top of Quentin's head. “I'm sorry I was an asshole, Q.” 

“Forgiven.” Quentin muttered into Eliot's chest, wrapping his arms tight around his waist. “Just don't do it again.”

“Promise.” Eliot muttered, daring to leave a quick kiss on top of Quentin's head.

==

Quentin still wouldn't let Eliot have a drink, but after dinner he’d rolled a couple joints for them to share. They’d curled up in Eliot’s bed, pretending to watch a movie on Quentin’s laptop. The conversation had drifted to Mike and Julia, the pain not quite so sharp through the haze of really good weed, and Eliot found himself sharing the whole story. 

“He was just sweet. Considerate. Great ass.” Eliot mused, wiggling his eyebrows at Quentin. Quentin giggled and sprawled more comfortably into Eliot's side. “And then it all went wrong when I found out he was a closeted asshole. So then months later he contacted me again, wanted to meet that day and talk, but I was so mad I wouldn't see him. If I had met him he probably wouldn’t have even been there when the beast showed up.”

“Hey, hey, that's not your fault. He hurt you, and you're allowed to protect yourself from that again.” Quentin was doing his best to pat Eliot's shoulder, but was laying at the wrong angle, and ended up half rubbing Eliot’s stomach instead. Eliot shivered at the faint touch of skin where his shirt had ridden up with Quentin's squirming to get comfortable. It was a really inappropriate time to get an erection over his friend, no matter how pretty Quentin was with his stupid, big, earnest eyes and floppy hair. 

“At least you had a good reason to be mad. The last time I saw Julia we had a huge fight. She was upset she didn’t get into the Brakebills program, so she was just quitting school entirely and I thought it was a waste” Quentin sighed and flopped his head on to Eliot's chest, dragging his leg up and across Eliot's thigh, “ I should have just been supportive. Maybe then she wouldn't have hooked up with those hedge bitches.”

“No, no Q. If I don’t get to be responsible for Mike, you don't get to be responsible for Julia. Really it's all the beast anyways.” 

“What a dick,” Quentin pouted, shifting his leg again so it rubbed against the semi Eliot was sporting. Eliot hissed and held very still. Quentin had always been shockingly comfortable with his touches and clinginess before, but it was one thing to have your gay friend hug you, and another to find he had an erection while doing so. 

Quentin looked up to meet Eliot's petrified gaze, then he very deliberately rubbed his thigh against Eliot's dick again. Eliot groaned and tipped his head back. Eliot knew it was a bad idea, maybe the worst he’d ever had, but Quentin was warm and soft and there next to him. Eliot spent all of half a second denying himself before he buried his fingers in Quentin’s hair to yank his head into position and kissed him. He thought his heart would explode when Quentin kissed him back. 

==

Eliot woke pleasantly achey, feeling wrung out after the last weekend. Quentin was curled up next to him, still sleeping, peaceful, and naked when Eliot took a quick peek under the sheets. He was startled by the scoff next to him, and turned to find Margo sitting in his chair, watching him with narrowed eyes. He refused to cower, and met her glare with one of his own. 

“Want to explain to me what the fuck you’re doing?” she hissed at him, keeping quiet enough she wouldn’t disturb Quentin. 

“Well Bambi, I wouldn’t think you’d need an explanation, but there are some excellent videos I can reccommend.” it was an inadequate response, but it was too early to be at his best. Margo leaned forward and twisted his ear to yank him in closer. 

“I know exactly what the fuck you did, and I can’t believe how motherfucking _stupid_ -”

“Oh hey Margo, didn’t think you’d be back yet!” Quentin’s voice was full of false cheer, and his eyes just barely peered over the edge of the blanket where he’d pulled it up to hide behind. Eliot could see the embarrassed flush on the tops of his shoulders, and decided he needed to get Margo out of the room. 

“C’mon Bambi, you can show me what presents you got me while I make coffee.” Eliot stood up from the bed, and ignored Quentin’s squeak of surprise at his own nakedness. He ushered Margo from the room, snagging some clothes on his way out and shutting the door behind him. 

Margo waited until she heard Quentin do his best to sneak by into the bathroom and the shower turn on before she faced him again. Her mouth was pursed in the way that meant she was disappointed. Eliot ignored her while he jerked his pants on and buttoned his shirt up. He was still downright slovenly compared to normal, but it was probably better than he’d looked over the past couple weeks. 

“What are you doing Eliot?” she was softer, but no less upset. 

“Considering all the time you’ve spent practically pushing me on his dick I thought you’d be happier.” Eliot shot back, but he couldn’t make himself look her in the eyes so he focused on getting himself a cup of coffee instead. His hands were shaking, and he gripped the cup tighter to try and keep them steady. 

“If I thought this was honestly about his dick instead of you trying to not deal with your feelings about Mike I would be thrilled.” Margo was always so judgemental, even when she was being supportive. It made Eliot want to scream. He set the coffee cup down in the sink gently, sick to his stomach. 

“And what do you suggest I do about it now?” he asked, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and wondering why they still felt like sandpaper after some of the best sleep he’d had in years. 

“El, you and I both know Quentin deserves more from you than the mess you are right now.” Margo’s voice was gentle, but it still stung. He shuddered and slumped back against the counter. She was right, and he was exhausted. 

“Um, sorry, but was anyone going to ask my opinion on this?”

Eliot uncovered his eyes to see Quentin standing in the entry to the kitchen like a dream. His hair was still wet and dripping onto his shoulders, and Eliot could see the edges of a bruise that weren’t quite covered by his collar. 

“Curly Q, I don’t think…” Margo started and trailed off at one of Quentin’s rare dark looks. 

“I’m sorry Margo, but I don’t think this is about you this time. Eliot, can I talk with you?” Quentin’s voice was still firm, but Eliot could still recognize the uncertainty underneath, and moved toward Quentin without a thought. Quentin shot one last defiant look at Margo before wrapping his fingers through Eliot’s and pulling him onto the balcony. 

It was quiet on the balcony, and Eliot leaned against the edge to look at the cars below. Quentin reached over and offered him a cigarette and Eliot didn’t have it in him to refuse. They smoke in silence for a few minutes, before Quentin sighed and leaned his head onto Eliot’s shoulder. Eliot allowed himself to tip his head down for a brief moment, before he straightened back up.

“Margo’s probably right Q. I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“I know,” Quentin said, and Eliot _hated_ the hint of tears in his voice, “but that doesn’t change anything for me.”

“It should.” Eliot murmured bitterly, hating that Margo was right. Quentin deserved the best, and Eliot wasn’t sure he was capable of that. 

Quentin turned to look squarely at Eliot, his chin tipped up in that way he got when he was being particularly brave. Eliot wanted to kiss him, but Eliot wanted that pretty much all the time. 

“Eliot, I know who you are, and I’ve waited for you to be ready for me for months. If you don’t think that’s now, I can wait a little longer. Just tell me there’s hope.”

“Q, I don’t know that I’ll ever be good for you.”

Quentin snorted loudly, and it made Eliot jump a little. Quentin just shot him a look, proving he had been spending too much time around Margo if he could manage that much disdain without words. 

“I think that’s my choice Eliot. I happen to think you’re good for me just as you are, but I can be patient if you don’t get that yet.”

Eliot chuckled, and ignored the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes when he reached out to grab Quentin’s shoulder, “Okay Q. If you can wait just a little longer, then yeah, I think I can work on it.”

Quentin’s smile was the brightest thing Eliot had ever seen.

==

It wasn’t easy. Eliot had years of repressed demons and self loathing to work through. Margo had dragged him to a counselor who had been brought onto campus after Mike’s body had been found in the fountain. Eliot talked for what felt like days about Mike, his childhood, his traumatic first use of his powers, even his father. It was painful, but it felt like he was scraping his soul clean, in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling. He even stopped most of his partying, dropping all the pills, and cutting back on his drinking. His grades had never looked better. Margo even managed to drag him to yoga a few times, but he wasn’t sure he was a fan.

Unlike Margo, Quentin never pushed, never demanded more of him than he was willing to give. They still met up for shared naps in the library, and studied together in the evenings, only now actual studying was accomplished. He still curled into Eliot’s side when they watched movies, but otherwise he mostly kept his hands to himself and waited for Eliot to come to him. 

Inspired by Eliot’s own progress, or maybe just in a show of solidarity, Quentin had made the choice to spend some of his own time with the counselor, and after some careful consideration he’d restarted a regimen of his anti-depressants. He still had the occasional bad day, but they didn’t hit nearly as hard or as often as before. 

It took most of the semester, but finally Eliot was cleared by his counselor. She still wanted him to check in every month or so, but she felt like he’d dealt with the worst of his trauma, and they could stop the weekly appointments they’d been keeping. 

They celebrated at the apartment with tacos and a single pitcher of drinks Eliot had whipped up for them to share. They poured their drinks and toasted their relative success of their semester. Eliot and Quentin had a handle on their mental health. Margo had earned an internship at some fancy spa with Alice’s aunt of all people. They all had stunning grades. The future looked good. 

“These are good El.” Margo commented, sipping on her drink. 

“It’s a peach and plum sangria.” Eliot shared, plucking out a piece of the fruit and eating it.

“Peaches and plums, huh?” Quentin asked, with his eyes shining. 

“Yeah Q, peaches and plums.”

==

“I was thinking Q, I know you’re going back to visit your mom next week, but maybe after…” Eliot trailed off, and Quentin rolled over on the couch to face him.

“After?” Quentin prompted, and Eliot bit his lip, still not sure what he’d done to deserve that look of hope and adoration on Quentin’s face. 

“Maybe we could go out and do something, just the two of us?”

“Do something, or do something?” Quentin asked, fighting back a smile. 

“Well, if you still wanted to-” Eliot didn’t get to finish his sentence before his lap was full of one laughing Quentin Coldwater. Eliot took the kiss he gave him as a yes, and the taste of peaches and plums would forever remind him of this moment.

Quentin left the next morning, lips still swollen from Eliot’s kisses, but Eliot hadn’t allowed anything else. Instead he focused on planning the perfect date for Quentin. He had gone about this backwards before, but he was doing it right this time. 

Or he would have, except Quentin never came back. He never made it to his mom’s. His phone and bag were found on the ground behind a gas station just two blocks away from his mom’s house, but there was no sign of where Quentin had disappeared to. He was just gone. 

Miles away, Daniel Quinn woke to his wife’s screaming and a nightmare he’d already lived once before. His daughter’s room was empty, the mirror shattered on the floor, and the house was filled with a cloud of butterflies.


	2. The Places You Need to Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that the butterflies are different every time the Beast appears?

Eliot woke to a glass of water on his face and a snapped “get up asshole” in a voice he would have recognized on his deathbed. He groaned and rolled over to shove his face in the cushions of the couch. 

“Eliot! Get! Your! Ass! Up!” 

Every word was accompanied by a yank on his feet which stuck off the edge of the couch no matter how he contorted himself. Margo gave one more vicious pull, and succeeded in sending Eliot tumbling to the floor. Eliot sprawled on the floor and contemplated just staying there. He shoved his hand under the couch cushions for the flask he’d enchanted to always be full, and was stopped by Margo dangling it from her fingers. 

“Bambi, isn’t it a little early to be this much of a bitch?” he grumbled at her from the floor..

“It’s noon Eliot.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips in the look of disappointment she’d patented just for him and he grabbed his phone to check the time. The cracked screen wouldn’t light up, and he stretched to plug it in on the small table next to the couch. 

“I was working late.” He finally muttered, not meeting her eyes. In all fairness, he had been working, just not on anything that would get him paid. 

“Yeah, you also have a client meeting in thirty minutes and you’re a mess. Don’t make me mention the state of your office.” Margo scowled as she picked her way forward through the detritus on his floor and knelt in front of him before pushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Josh called you, didn’t he?”

“Was there any doubt?” Margo leaned forward to kiss his forehead and stood up, “I brought clean clothes for you. Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll text you after work.”

Margo waited until he stood up and stumbled into the bathroom before she left. He heard the door close behind her and he washed his face before changing into the clothes she’d brought him. The button down shirt and vest were clean and pressed, very much college Eliot instead of the shambles of a man he was now. Margo insisted it was important he look professional when he met with clients or was out in public with her. She’d given up on getting him out of his ratty working clothes otherwise. 

He exited the bathroom to find Josh straightening up his office, and a steaming cup of coffee on the desk. He slumped in his chair and took a sip, watching Josh work his magic on the plants he insisted on keeping in the windows. He said the plants would cleanse the air of Eliot’s negative attitude. Eliot had responded by refusing to have anything to do with the plants, so Josh had taken over. Once the plant were magically resuscitated, Josh worked on clearing the empty coffee mugs. Eliot did his part by telekinetically sending all the files he’d left scattered around into the drawers where they actually belonged. 

“I’m going to fire you if you keep tattling to Margo on me.”

“You’ve been saying that since I started.” Josh offered with a grin. 

Josh had been an unexpected find. After Quentin had, well just after Quentin, Eliot had shifted his studies for his last year of school. He’d twisted and and stretched his magic, finding new ways to find his telekinesis. No one was better at locating missing things than him. He’d done a brief internship with the Magical Bureau of Investigation but it wasn’t a good fit. (Which was just the polite way of saying Eliot liked to day drink, and didn’t like when other people bossed him around.) Instead he’d opened his small PI business, and got to pick his own hours and cases, and just consulted for the local police and MBI. It had taken over a year, but he was finally seeing steady business.

Josh had been one of his first clients. He was a member of the class that had first been taken by the Beast, but he had been out of class with the flu when the class had gone missing. His girlfriend Victoria hadn’t been so lucky. Her body had shown up the month before. Her family hated Josh and refused to tell him where she’d been buried. He’d contacted Eliot to help him find the grave so he could say his goodbyes. 

Afterwards, Josh had shown him his crazy conspiracy board filled with theories about the Beast, everything from him being the president in disguise, or him being an alien from a far away galaxy. They’d gotten high off some truly delectable edibles Josh had created. Somehow during the night, Eliot had decided to hire Josh as his assistant, and the man had been ratting him out to Margo ever since. 

Having Josh around had probably saved his life, and Eliot wasn’t too ashamed to admit that most days. Josh understood the grief of a loved one disappearing with no answers, and how that could utterly consume and destroy your life. But Josh also reminded him how important it was to move on in the face of that despair, even if it was just to try and get answers. Josh’s conspiracy board on the Beast had been moved into the office, and they’d spent way too many late nights working on it under the influence. They’d spent just as many looking for answers about what had happened to Quentin. 

==

The knock on his door came promptly at 12:30, and Eliot only had a second to see Josh’s pinched expression and brace himself for a bad one before he saw who was behind him. It took him a minute to place the woman walking in his office. The hair was faded and her face was hollow, but he’d seen her a hundred times in the news, on Josh’s board, at the funeral after her son’s body had reappeared. 

Stephanie Quinn. The witch who had lost her both her children to the Beast, and then her husband. Daniel Quinn had perished of a heart attack the week after his son’s funeral, but there were rumors that maybe it wasn’t his health that had failed, but his will to live. 

The Quinn’s were an old magical family, and they used to be at the center of the magician social scene. They had been known for their obscenely grand parties, filled with the most prominent and powerful magicians. It was rumored that half the parties were orgies, neither of the Quinn’s being especially concerned with their wedding vows.

Of course, that was before. Ever since her husband’s death, Stephanie Quinn had become quite the recluse, almost never seen in public, and certainly not at any parties. Alice had disappeared days before Charlie’s body appeared. Stephanie had nothing left but that hope that maybe Alice would make it home alive, but as time went on, it seemed less and less likely. 

Eliot stood from his desk and offered his hand, not sure how to proceed. He could only think of one thing Stephanie Quinn would want him to find, and it was one of two things he’d never succeeded in locating. 

“Mrs. Quinn, a pleasure. Please sit down.”

Stephanie sat on the edge of her seat, clutching her handbag. Eliot sat down and crossed his legs, trying to look professional and not like he still had a hangover and had done all his bathing for the past week in his office sink. 

“How can I help you today Mrs. Quinn?” he asked to try and break the tension, dread already knotting his stomach. 

“If you know who I am, you know what I’m missing.” Stephanie told him, eyes flat and voice cold, “My daughter.”

“Alice,” he said softly and nodded, “I knew her at school. But I have to tell you Mrs. Quinn, I don’t know what I can do that the MBI hasn’t already done.”

“You’re the only chance I have left. Jane, she’s one of the agents on Alice’s case, she suggested I talk to you. Said there’s no one better at finding things or people, not even in the MBI.”

“I think I know Jane. Red hair, British accent, sort of bossy, maybe a little vague with information?”

Stephanie nodded, and Eliot fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Oh, he knew Jane. He’s not thrilled that she sent Stephanie to him. Probably just dumping her on him since the MBI had no leads.

“Stephanie, I don’t know if Jane would have told you, but I’ve been trying to find the Beast for years. I haven’t had any luck yet.” 

He tried to be gentle with her, this woman who lost everything. He wouldn’t, couldn’t stop looking for the Beast, but he can’t give her false hope, and he certainly won’t take her money. She shook her head at him, and opened her bag.

“No, you don’t understand. I can give you information you’ve never had before, and I can give you something to start from.”

He must have looked as confused as he felt, because Stephanie hurried to reach into her bag. She pulled out a variety of small bags, and Eliot leaned in to look. A thick file filled with papers. Two locks of hair, one blonde and the other closer to Stephanie’s own shade. A piece of a broken mirror. Two dead butterflies, carefully preserved. 

“It’s the entire MBI file on my children and the Beast. Locks of their hair. Butterflies from when they went missing. The mirror from Alice’s room the night she was taken. I thought, maybe if you had more information, or something to use to target her, you could at least try to find my daughter.”

Eliot didn’t answer right away. He looked closer at the object she had brought him, flipped through the folder quickly. There is certainly a lot here he can use. He still probably won’t be able to do anything, but she’s right, he can try.

“Okay Mrs. Quinn. Let me see what I can do.”

==

After Stephanie left, Eliot called Josh in. The file of information and all the talismans she’d brought for him to try his magic on were still laying across the desk. There was a check for expenses Stephanie had insisted on leaving, and Eliot was determined to ignore. Looking at it all made Eliot want to drink, but maybe that was just because it was lunchtime. 

“She wants you to find her daughter doesn’t she?” Josh asked, barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Two years, seven months, 12 days.” Eliot didn’t have to think about it. Alice had disappeared the same day Quentin had, and if it weren’t for the obvious evidence about what had happened to her, Eliot would have convinced himself they’d run off together. “How long does the Beast normally keep his victims?”

“Anywhere from two to four years. Seems like the more powerful the magician, the longer it takes for their bodies to show up.”

“Alice was strong. Hopefully she’s good for another few months.”

They both stopped, and stared again at the desk. Eliot flipped open the cover of the file.

“How should we do this? Drunk or wasted?”

Josh snorted and shook his head, “I’ll grab the board and some snacks. You get the drinks ready.”

==

Five hours later, they were both sitting on the floor. Eliot had his flask in hand, and Josh had a pipe in hand, the remains of something magical he’d smoked inside. Eliot wanted to scream. For all the information in the file, there wasn’t actually much of use. The most interesting thing had been the photos of Charlie’s body. Eliot had never seen the body of one of the Beast’s victims up close. 

Charlie had been a fairly attractive boy, and from what Josh had told him stunningly intelligent and charismatic in all the ways his sister lacked. His body had been clean, and surprisingly healthy. He was a little underweight, and pale like he hadn’t seen much sun, but aside from the bruising around his wrists and the clean slash at his throat that had ended his life he was relatively uninjured. What was new were the tattoos. 

Charlie hadn’t had a tattoo before he disappeared. Now he bore a complicated pattern of sigils down his spine, and one on each of his wrists and over his heart. The notes from the MBI file, along with the research books they’d consulted indicated that some of them kept Charlie from using his own magic. The others were harder to interpret, but it seemed like maybe they were being used to funnel Charlie’s magic elsewhere. 

The office door opened, and Margo stood in the doorway, hands on her hips while she stared down at the two of them. She was glossy and put together, magazine perfect. Eliot thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. From the dazed look Josh gave her when he forgot to be sad about Victoria, he clearly agreed. 

“I’d ask how your meeting went, but I think I can tell.” Margo told them as she stepped into the office. 

“We’re getting paid to try and find the Beast.” Josh told her seriously, glasses slipping down his nose. 

Margo’s eyes slid sharply to Eliot, and he nodded once at her, “Alice Quinn’s mommy hired us to find her daughter before she gets another body back. Brought me allllllll sorts of trinkets and a file full of MBI drivel.”

“So any luck?” Margo asked, tipping her head.

“I tried a locator spell on Alice using the lock of hair her mom brought me. Got slapped back by some big time mojo. Wherever the Beast is keeping them, he’s using big magic to keep it hidden.”

“So you decided a few drinks would help you get past that?” Margo asked wryly, stepping closer to check Eliot for injuries. 

“Nahhh, we needed the drinks to get through the autopsy pictures. I have a delicate constitution.” Josh informed her with the sincerity only the truly inebriated ever managed. 

Margo met Eliot’s eyes, and her face tightened imperceptibly. They both knew Eliot’s constitution was made of tougher stuff. 

After Quentin’s disappearance, Eliot spent the first few months in a state of desperation. He had spent hours on the phone demanding answers from the MBI agent assigned Quentin’s case, but in the face of another Beast abduction, and no obvious indication of foul play, there hadn’t been much work done. He’d spent his own time and magic searching for answers, and come up empty. When school returned, Eliot made his way to the library for a nap, and when he saw the bean bag he and Quentin used to share, he broke. Margo found him that afternoon, choking on his own vomit with the proof of his binge surrounding him. 

He’d survived thanks to her intervention, but all that work he’d done in therapy and all the effort he’d put into sobering up the year before was gone. He’d switched his classes the next day, and enchanted his flask that weekend. He never went to the library again. 

==

Eliot didn’t sleep well most nights, but the night before had been especially awful. He had ended up on his office couch again, scrunched into a ball to try and fit. He’d had shattered, fitful dreams, ending with Quentin’s body on the autopsy table. 

It was still dark out, moon high in the sky when Eliot woke up for the day, and decided to look at the file again with clearer eyes. He was still at it that morning when Margo showed up with a coffee carrier. 

“Did you know that the butterflies are different every time the Beast appears?” he asked Margo, making notes on some post its he’d taken from Josh’s desk and slapping them on the wall next to the pictures he’d tacked up. 

“No I didn’t.” Margo said eyeing him as she walked in, but stepping closer to his board just the same.

“They are. I called Jane this morning and checked, and it’s been the same across the board every time. There’s only ever been one type of butterfly found when a body is recovered, and it always matches what’s found when they go missing. There was a whole cloud of different ones at the first abduction site so no one realized at first.”

“So the Beast cares about aesthetics?” Margo asked wryly, arching one eyebrow and Eliot shrugged.

“Who knows what the Beast cares about. Maybe the different butterflies act as a focus for whatever magic he uses to zap them away. Anyways, look here,” He tapped the photo he wanted her to see while he talked, along with the butterflies in their baggies. “This here from when Alice went missing, it’s a Scotch Argus. And here from when Charlie’s body was recovered, it’s a Large Copper. But look here, in the corner of Alice’s room.”

Margo leaned in to see where he was pointing in the photo, and her eyes caught on what he wanted her to see right away. 

“That’s not one of your Scotched things.”

“Scotch Argus, but not the point. That’s a Blue Morpho. If there’s another butterfly…”

“It means there was another victim.”

==

 

It took time to put a new spell together. Eliot worked feverishly, hyperfocused. Proof of another possible victim, one who would have disappeared the same day as Alice? There was only one magician Eliot could think of who met that description. Finding the Beast was even more important now. How strong was Quentin? How long could he last with the Beast. He knew Margo was worried, but the focus on his job kept him relatively sober for the first time in years, so she watched silently and helped out when she could.

The locator spell clearly wasn’t working, thrown back by whatever wards the Beast had in place. But Eliot thought maybe there was another way. Not targeting a location of the body, but maybe reaching out directly to Alice’s mind. 

Eliot wasn’t very gifted in the psychic arts, but he was good at finding a way to make things work for him. He and Josh spent hours researching, playing with different spells, before finally they had something that might work. It was a mishmash of different techniques, starting with a plant concoction Josh had come up with, with a bastardized version of astral projection that even Eliot could pull off. Finally, they were ready for a test run, and Eliot had the perfect subject in mind. 

The perfect clothes, the pretty face, that was all surface stuff. He thought of the layer of armor and anger, with more layers of the same underneath. He thought of the first person to know his past and not care, who’d helped him shape his future. The person who spent every bad day in his room, who watched over him, and the tearful voice that begged him to be okay when he overdid it. The person who still believed in him after he’d fallen apart again, even going so far as helping to fund his business. The person who still checked in on him at least once a day, who’d fought harder than he ever had for him to stay alive and relatively healthy. Reaching for Margo was as easy as breathing,

He reached out, and there she was. She was in some kind of meeting, and he did his best to prod her mentally, willing her to realize he was there. Just finding Alice wasn’t enough, he had to be able to communicate, to find a way back. He could feel Margo’s confusion, and then her irritation, but he couldn’t hold the connection and his awareness snapped back into his own body.

Josh was waiting for him, anxious to see how their spell had worked. Eliot reached out for his phone waiting, and it lit up a second later with Margo’s name as she tried to call him. Josh laughed, and Eliot slumped to the floor in relief. They could make this work. 

It took another week of work, Margo more actively involved with the planning this time, for them to be ready to try for real. Margo was here this time, ready to go on the offensive in case the worst happened and the Beast showed up. Josh had set defenses into the spell, making it hard to backtrace. At Margo’s suggestion, they were using a mirror and making it more a bastardized version of scrying, which would be easier for Eliot to pull off. He’d practiced on both Josh and Margo several more times, and he thought he could do this. 

Eliot had tentatively brought up the idea of trying to find Quentin instead of Alice. He had more of a connection with him after all. But even if the evidence seemed to point that way, he couldn’t prove Quentin was actually with the Beast, and he was being paid to find Alice. In the end Margo had promised to try and help him pull off the same spell for Quentin when they were done with this job. He had physical talismans to seek out Alice. It would have to be enough. 

He had the spell set, the lock of Alice’s hair and the piece of her mirror employed again to use as a focus. Despite his lack of attachment to Alice, he was still going to try his best to make this work. 

It was a struggle from the beginning. There was no place in his heart for Alice, except for a faint memory of jealousy over the time she’d shared with Quentin. He strained to focus on the mirror in front of him, clenching his teeth and trying to make the spell work by sheer force of will. It felt like the magic kept slipping out of focus, and he couldn’t tell if it was him failing or the magic of the Beast pushing him back. Finally, he managed to drag the spell into place just for a moment, but it was enough. He fell back, rolling to the side to vomit. Josh rushed to his side, and Margo followed a second behind after making sure no one had followed. 

“Eliot? C’mon bud, talk to me. What happened?”

Eliot coughed again, spitting up the last of his lunch onto the floor.

“I saw her,” he gasped out, “I saw all of them. Margo, I saw Q. The Beast has Q.”


	3. Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast. That’s what he’d been fighting not to think about. Jula had been taken by the Beast last year, and if he was with Julia, it meant he had been taken too.

Quentin’s head felt like it had been split in two. He groaned, and immediately something cool covered his eyes and forehead. He scrambled to grab onto the hands laying the cloth on his head, and panicked when he found himself bound. He jerked and tried to free his hand, but whatever was tying him down was thick and heavy. 

“Shhhh Q, just relax or you’ll hurt yourself.”

The voice was familiar, and he turned towards it. The voice simultaneously filled him with joy and dread. The voice felt a little like home, like long summer days playing outside, and cold winter nights curled up with cocoa and a favorite story. It also felt like loss, like dread, and he wondered if he had died. No, he decided, he hurt too much to be dead. 

“Q, I’m going to take the rag back okay? Don’t open your eyes all at once. There’s not a lot of light, but it won’t feel good.”

The hands were back, pulling back the cloth and brushing his hair back from his eyes. He did as they said, and kept his eyes closed, waiting until the hands stopped before cracking an eyelid to see around him. The voice had been off to his left, and so that’s where he looked. 

“Julia…” he breathed, trying to sit up, but being pulled back again by his restraints. There were manacles he saw now, thick and engraved to keep his magic at bay, but they weren’t connected to anything. It was rope wrapped around his wrists that kept him tied down to the metal frame of the cot he way lying on. 

It hit him all at once, what it meant that Julia was here, and he fought to remember how he got here. He’d been going to see his mom, and something had distracted him. He remembered a sharp blow to the side of his head, and then nothing. 

“The Beast, Julia, oh my god where am I?”

“Shhh, Q, you’re going to hurt yourself. Lay back and let me check your head.”

He did as she said, only wincing a little when she probed the tender spot at his temple. He could feel the dried blood along his temple, but he still couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here.

“Julia,” he started and coughed. His mouth tasted like something had died, worse than even that time he’d woken up hungover after a night of Margo pouring those absolutely foul shots that tasted like gasoline down his throat. His throat was dry and sore too, and even whispering made the pounding in his head worse. 

He was distracted by a low cry and the sound of metal clanking somewhere off to his left, and he startled a little, hearing a female voice cry out. Julia leaned over him and put another cool cloth on his head, making low soothing noises until he stilled. He felt her shift back, and wondered for the first time how many others were here in this room. She took the cloth and used it to gently clean the blood off his head. 

He could hear a low male voice off to his side where the woman had cried out, and he turned his head slightly towards the sound. Julia was right there as soon as he moved, keeping a hand on his shoulder so he didn’t turn over, not that he could while he was tied down. Why was he tied down? Clearly Julia had free range of movement. 

“Julia, why am I tied down and you’re not?” he whispered, noting the throbbing in his head wasn’t better, but he was able to manage it better now. 

“Everyone is restrained when they first get here,” Julia told him, “Just until we know you’re awake and won’t freak out and hurt someone. We’ve had a few people wake up badly. If you promise not to punch me, I can untie you.”

“I promise,” he whispered, and she untied him. The manacles remained, and he held his hands up at Julia, “What about these?”

“Sorry Q, but those are the Beast’s handiwork, not mine.”

Quentin felt nauseous, and fought to not vomit while he was laying on his back. The Beast. That’s what he’d been fighting not to think about. Jula had been taken by the Beast last year, and if he was with Julia, it meant he had been taken too. 

“What-why does-Julia what’s going on?”

“What do you remember?” she asked him, reaching forward to grasp his hand, and he clutched onto her.

“School had just ended for the summer. I was going to visit my mom. I stopped for something.” He furrowed his brow, trying to remember what had distracted him from his trip. “I...I stopped to grab a drink at the gas station. My mom had already called me twice and I just couldn’t deal with her sober anymore.”

“Sounds about right.” Julia murmured above him, running her fingers through his hair. It was helping to soothe away his headache, and he pushed his head minutely into her touch. 

“I think, someone called my name? No that’s not right.” He knocked the rag off his head so he could knuckle an eyeball, trying to think.

“You felt like someone was calling you, and when you turned around there were butterflies.”

“Yeah!” His eyes flew open and he sat up, disregarding his pain to stare at Julia, “That’s exactly it. How’d you..”

“That’s how it always starts Q.” Julia’s smile was tight, and he wondered what had happened to her when she was taken. Her whole coven had been found slaughtered. What had happened between the Beast appearing and Julia being taken?

“Quentin!” 

A different voice this time, still female, but panicked. He turned to look where he’d heard the voices from earlier and saw a familiar blonde being held back by a vaguely familiar looking man with the same eyes. 

“Alice?” he asked, leaning forward and swinging his legs around. Julia’s hand on his chest and a bout of nausea kept him sitting down.

“Quentin, are you okay? He showed up outside my house, and you were on the ground bleeding and I didn’t-” Alice’s words cut off in a sob, and the man with her wrapped his arms tighter around her.

Quentin reached up and touched the side of his head again. There was still a small trickle of blood, and a large lump. He had to have been hit pretty hard. 

“I’m okay Alice. Just a headache, but I’ll be fine.”

“More like a concussion, and no one ends up fine here, but please continue.”

This voice was new, female and sharp. He turned to see the woman leaning against the wall, doing her best to appear bored by the proceedings. 

“Q, this is Marina.” Julia told him softly, “She’s who I was with when I was caught.”

Marina ignored him, and looked toward Alice.

“So you’re baby Quinn. Gotta say, I’m not impressed. Real dumb move walking right into the Beast’s arms that way.”

“He was going to kill Quentin if I didn’t!” Alice spat out, furious in the face of Marina’s disregard.

“Well, now he’s going to kill both of you, so good job there.” Marina scoffed once more and strode off and Quentin took the chance to really look around the room he found himself in. 

It was a large stone room, lined with the metal cots, each with a thin blanket. There was a toilet and sink in the corner. All the other occupants of the room were huddled at the other end of the room. Quentin had the feeling they were waiting to see what he and Alice did before they moved closer. Now that he was looking, Quentin recognized them from the stories about the Beast. The man with Alice was her brother Charlie. 

“So, I guess I should introduce myself?” Quentin said, indicating the other side of the room. Julia chuckled, and helped him to his feet to meet the others in the room.

==

For the most part, the Beast left them alone. They were kept in their cell, and food was delivered a couple times a day. It wasn’t tasty, but it was better than nothing. Sprinklers in the ceiling turned on once a day to allow them to shower, and clean clothes appeared once a week. 

They did their best to keep track of the days, based on their meals, and before Quentin knew it the days had turned into years. He wondered sometimes if his life outside had been a dream. His cell was the only thing that felt real.

The Beast came for Alice three days after they’d arrived, and when she came back she was shivering and her skin was raw and bloody where the Beast had tattooed his spells into her skin. Down her spine, on her wrists, and over her heart just like everyone else in the room. The Beast took Quentin the next day, and Quentin spent hours paralyzed by the Beast’s magic as he tapped the marks delicately into his skin. He took each of them twice more, touching up the spells, making sure the marks were perfect and didn’t fade with healing. 

They were batteries, Julia had explained to Quentin. The Beast used them to power large spells, things he wouldn’t have been able to do on his own. The stronger their magic, the longer they lasted in his care. When one of them died, the Beast deposited their bodies back where he’d taken them from, and looked for a replacement. The marks on their skins kept them from using their magic on their own, while others allowed him to siphon out their power. Despite the spells, the Beasts kept the manacles on all of them as extra insurance they couldn’t fight back. 

They all had theories on what the Beast was hoping to accomplish, but no one really knew. Quentin was told the Beast had captured at least two travelers, but they were locked up separately, in special rooms with extra wards built into them. They couldn't see them through the concrete walls, but they could sometimes hear them crying or moaning in pain. Quentin saw one of them once, when the Beast called on him for a spell. The man was feverish and in pain, but he still managed to fight his chains and swear at the Beast. 

It wasn’t long after Quentin and Alice arrived, that Charlie died. He was already weak, having been in the care of the Beast for years. He hadn’t been eating much, focusing on feeding Alice and trying to keep her as healthy as possible instead. When the Beast came for her, Charlie tried to intervene. He jumped in the way, pleaded and threatened the Beast to not touch his sister. The Beast threw Charlie against the wall with a careless wave of his hand. The sickening snap when Charlie hit meant he never got up again. 

Quentin had never heard a scream like what came from Alice’s mouth. She’d fought the Beast, scratching and kicking and trying to get to her brother’s body. The Beast didn’t even flinch, just sent her flying against the wall as well. When she didn’t get up again, the Beast just dragged her limp body out of the room for whatever work he had to do that day. 

Alice came back to the cell later that day. By then Charlie’s body had already been removed. She sat in the corner, dry eyed, her rage a palpable thing. She changed after that day, becoming darker, more bitter. For the most part, she sat in the corner muttering to herself and drawing spellwork into the dust of their cell. They all learned it was better to just stay out of her way. 

==

The thing about being in the cell was, there was no use in getting attached. Eventually, they were all going to die. Even with that knowledge, the loneliness and the despair made it hard to not reach out for comfort. 

Julia and Quentin had returned to their easy friendship, the threat of death making their former argument inconsequential. Julia tolerated Marina, and Marina had known Kady, whose mother was a hedge, before they’d both been taken. Sometimes, when Quentin couldn’t sleep, he caught Julia curling up in Kady’s cot with her, and he was glad she wasn’t alone. 

Once, after Quentin guessed he’d been there about a year, Alice woke him up in the middle of the night by trying to crawl in his cot with him. He thought about her, the curves and soft lips. He thought about this cell where he was certain he was going to be for the rest of his days. He thought about how easy it would be.

Then he thought an apartment that had become home, filled with laughter, movies on the couch and his favorite tea. One blessed weekend full of kisses and sleeping on a leanly muscled chest. He thought about the taste of peaches and plums, and a second chance that had been stolen from him. 

He pushed Alice back gently, and turned away from her to go to sleep. She never tried crawling in his cot for comfort again. 

==

After Quentin and Alice, the Beast didn’t go hunting for a while. Instead of searching for new magicians, the Beast just worked the rest of them harder than before. Slowly, Charlie’s classmates died off, ending with the traveler Victoria who’s heart gave out in the middle of a major spell the Beast was trying to perform, leaving Quentin to suffer the full brunt of the backlash when the spell failed.

“It has to mean something right? Have the numbers ever gotten this small before?” Quentin asked, aching down to his bones from the amount of magic the Beast had pulled from him today.

“Yeah, it means I’m exhausted and we’re all going to die that much sooner.” Marina snapped from across the room. She hadn’t even made it to her cot, just dropped on the floor after her shower, wrapped up in her thin blanket. 

“We have to get out of here.” Alice said, staring at the ceiling. She barely spoke to any of the since Charlie’s death, and her eyes were faintly tinged with mania. 

“And how do you propose that baby Quinn?” Marina snapped, but made no effort to move. Alice didn’t have an answer, and they all lapsed into silence. 

==

It was a relatively normal day when everything changed. They’d all been sitting in the room, the Beast having no need for them that day. Alice had been in her corner, muttering to herself as usual when she straightened like she’d been shocked and turned around. 

“Do you feel that?” she asked them, not her normal condescending tone, but confused, as soft around the edges as Quentin had ever seen her. 

“I don’t feel a thing, blondie, except tired,” Marina started to snap from her bed, “So if you wouldn’t mind-”

She stopped, frozen like they all were at the pressure of the wards around them, and the sliver of magic that was forcing its way through. Alice’s whimpered, the manacles at her wrists glowing and sparking, but she ignored the heat as they burned her as they worked to block whatever magic was happening. It all faded in an instant as the wards snapped back into place. Alice’s face crumpled, confused and she whispered, “What the fuck?” before she slumped to the side and passed out. 

Kady was there to catch her, and Quentin ran over to pick Alice up and move her safely into the pile of blankets she had made her bed. 

“What was that?” Kady asked, and Quentin shook his head. He checked Alice’s pulse, and found it steady under his fingertips. Julia had grabbed a cup with some water and brought it over. They were all so focused on Alice they didn’t notice Marina.

When Alice had fainted, Marina had moved to the middle of the room between them and the doorway. She had a shiv she’d fashioned out of a piece of one of the cots hidden at her side. She didn’t have to wait long before the door burst open and the Beast stomped inside in a rage. Marina took her shot, and with a scream she jumped forward and did her best to stab the Beast in the neck.

She missed, but not by much. Her improvised weapon stuck out of the Beast’s shoulder, and he bellowed in rage. A raw blast of magic slammed Marina back, and he kicked her viciously in the head where she landed. He whipped around, focused on the rest of them, and a few quick motions of his hands left them all slumped on the floor, unconscious while their captor improved his defenses. 

==

The next morning, or what passed for it in their prison, they all woke up. They’d all been moved into a smaller cell, more heavily warded, and their manacles were attached to the ceiling with long heavy chains. It was difficult to move around each other without getting tangled. Marina hadn’t regained consciousness yet. She was curled tightly under her blankets, shivering and sweating in turns, and when Julia touched her forehead she was burning up. 

They all took turns sitting with Marina over the next few days, trying to spoon bits of food and water into her mouth, wiping away her sweat, and curling around her to share their body heat when she shivered. 

Two days later, she was gone. Julia cried over her body, Kady holding her close. Quentin slumped back against the wall, and hoped if there was an afterlife it was gentler on Marina than her life had been. 

==

The day after Marina disappeared, they woke to a new body in their cell. It was the traveler Quentin had seen before, but never had the chance to talk to. He was thinner than Quentin remembered, certainly thinner and more gaunt looking than any of them were. Presumably, it came from being worked so much harder than the rest of them. 

“So which of you instigated the lock down?” He finally questioned, his head tipped back against the wall in exhaustion.

They all looked at each other, except Alice who was laying on the ground facing away and refusing to make eye contact. 

“Look, I’ve been here a long time, and he’s never put this much work into security. I’ve been projecting all over trying to see what’s up, and best as I can tell someone made outside contact, and that’s what has the old man so freaked out.”

“You can still astral project?” Alice turned over quickly, eyes sharply interested in what Penny was saying.

“Yeah, I couldn’t for a long time but whatever magic happened broke something. I’ve been able to project a little bit now, but just inside this place. I still can’t make contact outside this building.”

“What if you could follow a path someone else had already made?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but-”

“A path. That magic was someone trying from the outside. Could you follow the spell back to its source?”

They were all frozen, eyes on the traveler with hope, and he tipped his head to the side. 

“Shit, no promises, but I can try.”

“Wait, go back a second,” Kady interrupted, “Are you sure that was someone from the outside?”

Alice laughed, but it was cold, “I’m positive. I recognized the magic.”

“You knew them?” Julia tilted her head with her question, her own glare milder, although she was obviously still annoyed. 

Alice shrugged, and her mouth twisted in a sardonic smirk. 

“Knew of them more like. Quentin over here is the one who really knew them. Biblically, if I had to guess.”

“What the fuck Alice?” Quentin finally exploded, blushing even though he had no clue what it meant. 

“Oh, let’s not play the denial game. It was pretty obvious what was going on. So how long did it take after we split up that you started sucking Eliot’s dick instead?”

Quentin felt like all the air left the room, and he froze. Everyone was watching them, and he could feel Julia’s pity and shock from across the room.

“Eliot? You’re sure?”

Alice snorted, and crossed her arms, “Of course I’m sure. His magic had that bitter, disdainful feeling, just like the look he always gave me.”

She stopped then, tipping her head and looking at Quentin with cruel amusement, “And he came looking for me and not you.”

Quentin froze, just for a second, and he doubted. It had been years after all, and Eliot and he had never really had a relationship. But he knew, he knew the way Eliot had felt, all the work they had both put in to be better. And he knew that Alice was hurting just like the rest of them, but he didn’t need to just take her shitty attitude.

“I don’t know why Eliot came looking for you Alice, but I know that he’ll come for me in the end. Is there anyone on the outside you can think of who would do that for you?”

With that being said, Quentin dropped onto the cot that had been dragged into the room, intent on taking a nap. But he couldn’t sleep, his heart thrumming in his chest. Eliot was going to come. Quentin just had to stay alive. 

==

If Eliot had gotten his way, he would have attempted his spell again immediately, only this time he was going to focus on Quentin. There wasn’t a ward on the planet strong enough that would keep him away. He didn’t even need an object as a focus, he just needed his heart. 

There was maybe the small chance that fighting through the wards the first time had been harder on him than he was willing to admit, but as soon as he could get off the floor where Margo was holding him he was going to _get his man._

Eliot’s intentions were good, but his body couldn’t follow through. He ended up passing out from the strain, and Margo and Josh cleaned the vomit off his face and carried him to his couch to recover. He stayed unconscious for almost a full twenty four hours, and when he woke it was to Margo waving his flask under his nose like it was full of smelling salts. 

“Finally, you giant dick,” she huffed at him, but he could see the worry in her eyes. 

“Bambi,” he murmured and made grabby hands at his flask. She took a swallow before she passed it back, and he pushed himself up enough to take a drink. It took a minute to reorient himself, but when he did he would have jumped straight up from the couch if Margo hadn’t anticipated his reaction and been there to push him back.

“Bambi, I gotta get up. The spell, I saw Quentin! He was there, the Beast has him, I have to-”

“Shhhh, Eliot, I know. Jane wants to talk to you about modifying your spell to track the victims, we were just waiting for you to wake up.”

“Oh good, as it happens I’m awake. Where’s my phone so I can call Jane?”

Margo rolled her eyes at him, but she stayed at his side to steady him while he stood up and made his way to the bathroom. He rinsed his face in the sink and grimaced at his reflection. He had officially been at the office for way too many days. He needed a shower and some sleep in a real bed. Maybe even some sunlight. There was probably a crude Vitamin D joke in there somewhere, but it was too easy and he was too tired to dwell on it. 

He emerged from the office to find Margo in his chair and Josh hovering near the couch. There was a fresh cup of coffee and a tupperware filled with pastries on the desk. Josh was a stress baker, which was a real point in his favor as a assistant. Eliot dug into the tupperware, suddenly ravenous, but more importantly refueling for when he went to save Quentin. 

“These are good, Josh. Top notch.” Eliot tipped the container towards Josh, speaking through a full mouth and reaching for his coffee at the same time. 

“Oh thanks, they’re just fig-apricot-saffron-carda-you don’t care do you?”

“No Josh, no one cares about that.” Margo shook her head, reaching out to swipe one of the pastries from Eliot’s tupperware, “Eliot, I know you’re okay with a little choking but chew your food.” 

==

Someone had called the MBI to let them know he was awake, because Jane showed up later that day with a woman she introduced as Zelda. Zelda specialized in the research and development of new spells, and it was going to be her in charge of attempting to tweak the spell Eliot had used to find Alice. Zelda took copies of their notes, praised the innovation they had used while simultaneously scolding them for their use of untested magic. She gave Eliot a motherly pat on the cheek, and then swept away with Jane at her heels. Jane had strongly encouraged Eliot not to try and act on his own again. Aside from what he had done being completely unsafe, there was also a chance the MBI would want him to do it again, this time with one of their teams at his back. They couldn’t afford for him to be incapacitated for a full day if they needed him. 

Eliot may have understood the logic, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Margo had confiscated and hidden everything he needed for not just this spell, but for any magic he couldn’t cast completely on his own. It still took all of Margo and Josh’s collective effort to coerce him back to his apartment. Margo turned on the shower and shoved him in fully clothed. He swore at her, but he could admit that the hot water felt good on muscles that were still cramped from hours on the couch. 

He exited the shower to another Josh cooked meal, and was pressed into his bed, a ridiculously lavish monstrosity he hardly ever spent the night in. The apartment was spacious, even though it was mostly bare. Eliot was at the office at least twelve hours a day most days, and slept there at least twice a week. He used his apartment as a storage space more than anything else. Really, the only nice thing in it was Eliot’s bed. He had one picture on his bedside table, a gift from Margo. It was a silly selfie she’d taken of the two of them and Quentin in college. Their faces were smashed together, and they had been laughing. Eliot stared at the photo while he fell asleep, and for once the comfort of his bed did what it was supposed and he slept peacefully through the night.

The next couple of days were spent much the same way. Eliot was still tired, recovering from the feverish studying and spellwork of the past week, and still unwilling to admit he needed to rest. He was pretty sure Josh was putting something in his food to make him sleepy. When he voiced this opinion, Margo just rolled her eyes and insisted this is what happened when he didn’t take care of himself. He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he had nothing to do but wait on Jane.

It was either way too late at night, or way too early in the morning when his phone rang. He wouldn’t have answered, but he recognized Jane’s number.

There was another body, and they needed Eliot right away.

==

Eliot was willing to do a lot of things for his clients (unless they’d pissed him off or refused to pay him, then he was willing to do a lot of things to piss them off), but he hadn’t actually seen that many bodies before. The woman laying on the table wasn’t familiar to him, but he recognized the tattoos on her arm. Hedge bitch then, probably the one that had gone missing with Julia. She had been a pretty girl, if you were into those kinds of things. Eliot wasn’t into girls or dead bodies, and was distinctly unhappy about being so close to this one. 

“Why am I here again?” He drawled out, tipping an eyebrow in Jane’s direction and keeping his hands firmly in his pockets, “I mean, was it really necessary to meet in the room with the dead body?”

“I thought it would be useful to see if there was anything on the body we could try and trace back to its origin.”

“And was there anything?” Eliot asked, really wanting some coffee, but not willing to drink anything that had been contaminated by the presence of the morgue. 

“You look and tell me,” Jane told him, waving her hand casually through the air. Eliot sighed, then lifted his hands to make a rectangle that he peered through at the body, and he jumped back in surprise. The body was absolutely covered in residual magic. 

Eliot grinned at Jane, a slow feral thing. The smile Jane gave him back was just as vicious. They had their best lead in years, and they were going to get this bastard.

==

Zelda’s modifications were brilliant, and Eliot almost wished he had taken a job with the MBI after all, if only to have access to their resources. Eliot wouldn’t be casting alone this time. Eliot would lay the initial spellwork, supported by an agent named Stanley and Stephanie Quinn. They were hoping the blood connection between mother and daughter would strengthen the spell. Stanley was a traveler who had blocked off his powers, but was a pro at astral projection. Hopefully, he would be more successful than Eliot at creating and maintaining a connection. Once the framework was in place, Eliot’s position was going to be taken over by Zelda, and he would join the rest of the team.

If they were successful and the spell led them back to Alice, a team of MBI agents was hopefully going to be transported to the victims by another traveler on the MBI payroll. Joe was ridiculous, and flirtatious, and five years ago Eliot would have been all over him. Today, he just nodded his head in a brief greeting and moved on. 

Eliot was being allowed to accompany the team into the Beast’s hideout, only so he could locate any other victims. He was given strict instructions about not engaging with the Beast. Eliot rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to try and hunt down the Beast alone, but if he just happened across his path Eliot had a few things he’d like to communicate. 

==

The cell was as quiet as it ever was. Penny’s attempts to astral project out of the building they were in had failed. Alice, irritated at the failure, had taken to sitting in her corner and not speaking to anyone. Quentin couldn’t say he was disappointed. 

Kady had made the effort to reach out to Penny, and they were becoming fast friends, inasmuch as friendship could exist in a place like this. They had fallen asleep, leaning on each other and sharing as much body heat as possible. It was cold, and the Beast hadn’t made any effort to deliver food or water since Marina had died. Quentin was a little hungry, but mostly he was thirsty.

Julia had curled on the floor, her head in Quentin’s lap. She was shivering while she huddled there, and Quentin did his best to wrap around her without their chains getting tangled. They hadn’t seen the Beast, and they were resting to regain their strength, but also terrified of what was going to come. 

Afterwards, Quentin had a hard time piecing everything back together. There was a pop in the air, and they all felt it again, the pressure of the wards when something was pushing against them. Alice jerked up, her manacles already starting to glow. The Beast was there, howling in rage as he cast spells randomly. Julia was screaming as she curled up and tried to dodge all the errant magic. Penny was trying to protect Kady on the other side of the room. Alice was crying, slamming her hands against the wall, and trying to rip the manacles off of her wrists. 

There were more people in the cell, and one of them stepped on Quentin’s hand. There was more magic being thrown, and Quentin shoved himself back, trying to press Julia back with him. Their chains were tangled, and Quentin couldn’t move any further.

“Martin! What are you doing?” yelled a woman Quentin didn’t know, and she sounded horrible, anguished. 

Quentin wondered who the fuck Martin was for all of half a second before he was trying to duck back again when he heard the Beast scream back at her.

“You’re ruining it! I was going to fix everything! I was going to get Rupert back!”

There was more magic, from the Beast, from the strangers in the room. Penny was shouting, Julia was sobbing at his back, and Quentin was sure he was going to die when he saw her. Alice was illuminated by the manacles still glowing on her wrists when she leapt up and managed to wrap some of her chains over the Beast’s neck. The Beast roared, trying to fling her off. Alice held on tightly, and Quentin thought he could hear her screaming even above the noise in the rest of the room. 

“You killed Charlie! You killed my brother!” 

There was another pop, and the Beast was thrown through the air, crashing into the wall with Alice still screaming on top of him. Quentin’s ears popped as the wards surrounding him crumbled, and in the sudden ease of that pressure he could hear someone shouting his name.

“Q! Quentin! Q!”

Quentin sat forward, his eyes searching the crowd because this had to be a dream. Finally he saw him, arguing with another man who was trying to keep him back. Quentin felt his eyes well up, and he sat forward, forgetting for a moment about his chains.

“Eliot!” 

Eliot’s eyes locked on his immediately, and he swiftly kneed the man holding him in the groin so he could sidestep him and run across the room. He dropped on his knees and wrapped Quentin in his arms. They were both sobbing. It didn’t matter. Eliot was here. Quentin was safe.


	4. Always Keep Them on a Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peaches and plums, motherfucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end! Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy the ending!

Eliot woke up to the sun in his eyes, and a finger tracing lazy circles on his chest. His mouth twitched in a faint smile, and he opened his eyes to see Quentin sprawled against his side. Quentin was peering up at him from under his lashes, shy and warm and _here_. 

Eliot shifted cautiously, making sure he broadcast his movements before wrapping his arms around Quentin and kissing his temple. Quentin sighed contentedly and rested his head on Eliot’s chest. They remained like that until Eliot’s stomach grumbled, and Quentin chuckled before sitting up.

They moved to the kitchen where Eliot made tea, and Quentin selected some muffins from onf of the boxes Josh kept sending over. They ate together on the couch, Quentin curled in Eliot’s lap, Eliot feeding him bites of pastry. 

After they ate, Eliot cleaned up breakfast while Quentin took a quick shower and got dressed. Eliot was pouring the rest of the tea in a thermos when arms wrapped around him from behind. Eliot relished in the contact for as long as he could, but all too soon they had to go. 

Quentin dropped into the passenger seat, and immediately reached over to grab Eliot’s hand. He held onto him, and they made small talk about what work Eliot had to get done today, and discussed what they’d have for dinner. Eliot pulled up to the front of the clinic where Quentin had his appointment. Quentin hesitated, but squared his shoulders before leaning in to kiss Eliot’s cheek and exiting the car. Eliot watched him walk inside, then waited just a little more before pulling away and going to his office. 

Eliot handled a couple of meetings he had to take at the office, then checked in with Josh before grabbing some work and leaving. He’d been doing more of his work from home lately. He picked up Quentin, who looked tired but smiled at him all the same. 

At home Quentin worked through his ritual of watering their plants. The apartment had transformed in the month he’d lived there. The couch had been upgraded to something ridiculously big and comfortable. There were soft throw rugs on every floor. The black out curtains Eliot had once insisted upon had been replaced by sheer gauzy things that let in more light than they kept out. There was real food in the kitchen instead of just the occasional box of take out. It wasn’t just a glorified storage space anymore. 

Eliot did most of his work sitting on the couch, Quentin stretched across his lap like a cat. The window was open and the breeze blew his hair into his face. Eliot couldn’t help running a careful hand through the shining strands. Proper nutrition and conditioner had done wonders for Quentin, and he was glowing in the sun. 

“You’re beautiful like this,” Eliot couldn’t help murmuring, just to see Quentin’s blush. 

They made dinner together that night, and only burned it a little. Eliot made a note to order more of the chicken dish, pleased with the way Quentin took seconds. Eliot took his shower before bed, and they curled up in Eliot’s bed. Quentin didn’t curl up on him again, but he reached across the bed to hold Eliot’s hand, and that’s how they fell asleep. It had been an idyllic day, one of the best ones yet.

==  
In the end, it had all been rather anti-climatic. The Beast had been crippled by a wound to his shoulder, and it made all the difference in slowing down his casting. Eliot wasn’t supposed to interfere, but his telekinesis had made all the difference in knocking the Beast out and give the rest of the team a chance to break the wards around the cell. Jane had been shaken to learn it was her own little brother behind the serial killer she’d been hunting. Apparently he’d become fixated on using a traveler’s abilities to travel through time as well as space. He wanted to save their older brother from the terrible accident that had taken his life. He didn’t seem to hold the lives he had taken in regard, reasoning that if he was successful that they would all be brought back to life as well. 

Luckily magical types weren’t inclined to the show of a trial. Martin would be imprisoned, magically castrated like he’d done to his victims for the rest of his days. Jane had taken a leave of absence, and Eliot knew she felt horribly guilty over what her brother had done. She’d paid for the medical bills of all the remaining survivors of her brothers madness. Luckily, most of them had only needed a weekend in the hospital to get over the initial dehydration. Quentin never had much to say on the subject, other than remarking once that Martin was a terrible name for a supervillain. 

Alice had suffered severe burns to the skin around her wrists and hands, and was going to be spending quite a bit of time recovering. She and her mother had a tearful reunion. Apparently, their relationship had been quite strained before her disappearance, but they were both trying much harder now. Stephanie had immediately taken Alice to see the best therapist she could find, and they hadn’t heard much from her in the meantime. 

Julia had spent some time doing inpatient therapy, and then had moved in with her sister. She called or wrote letters to Quentin about once a week depending on how she was feeling. She wanted to organize some kind of memorial to her coven, and all the other victims of the Beast. Her therapist, a very nice man named Richard, thought it was a good goal and was helping her plan it out. 

Kady and Penny had disappeared together. Neither of them had really had a family support network, so they’d just taken off once they were released from the hospital. They still checked in occasionally, mostly with Julia, but it seemed like they’d decided the best therapy was lots of traveling. They sent pictures sometimes, a tent on top of a mountain, hiking the Grand Canyon. They were happy as long as they were free of any walls. 

==

It hadn’t been an easy month. Quentin, like Julia, had attempted some inpatient counseling. He found the confined space of his room to be more terrifying than anything else, and had been at the center for less than an afternoon before he called Eliot demanding he get him out. 

Eliot, who could barely stand to have Quentin out of his sight anyways, had offered his spare room. It took exactly ten hours and one nightmare to send Quentin into Eliot’s bed. After a week of the same pattern, Eliot had insisted on Quentin just sleeping with him at night. It wasn’t a miracle cure, but having Eliot nearby helped. Quentin still had nightmares, but he shook them off faster and fell back to sleep easier with Eliot close by. 

Quentin didn’t do well being alone anymore. Conversely, after having people constantly in his space for the past few years he craved privacy. He didn’t like talking with others, terrified they’d recognize him. He got overwhelmed in crowds. He’d nearly fainted when the barista at Eliot’s favorite coffee shop tried to make small talk with him. Eliot seemed to be the exception to the rule. Quentin seemed to crave Eliot’s touch constantly, whether it was sprawling across his lap at home, or just a hand on his back while walking to the car. If he couldn’t touch him, Quentin always kept Eliot in his line of sight. In the first week or so he was free, losing sight of Eliot had been enough to cause some pretty significant panic attacks. Now Quentin would unhappily tolerate the separation required for Eliot to go to work, going to his own therapy at the same time. 

Quentin had also developed a major case of claustrophobia. He liked the living room with it’s open floor plan and large windows best, but Eliot’s bedroom was a tolerable second. Eliot’s office, cramped and with only one small window was unacceptable for the time being. But again, it was never that simple. Quentin also hated going new places. Home was safe. Therapy was an acceptable risk. They’d been easing into going to Margo’s apartment. Quentin liked the constant mess of colors from her clothes and work strewn around, and she still kept her cupboards stocked with his favorite tea. 

Eliot had learned quickly to speak softly, not to move suddenly, not to touch without warning. Groceries were ordered online and only delivered while they were out of the apartment, plans were made and written on a calendar in the kitchen at least a day in advance, and visitors to the apartment were only allowed selectively and for short times. The plants had been a suggestion of Quentin’s therapist, and happily supplied by Josh who adored Quentin on sight, if only for the smile he brought to Eliot’s face. Healing was slow, and painful, but worth it. So, so worth it. 

==

Eliot woke to a choked off sob and the thudding sound of Quentin falling out of bed as he fought free of the blankets. It was still dark out, and Eliot was guessing he hadn’t been asleep more than three hours. Quentin was on the floor next to the bed, gasping and crying softly, probably trying not to wake Eliot up. Eliot fought back the urge to roll his eyes as he sat up, moving slowly so he didn’t scare Quentin more. 

“Q baby? You okay?” Eliot called out to the empty side of the bed, a soft sniffle his only reply. He crawled over to the empty side of the bed to peer down at Quentin. Quentin appeared unharmed, just a little shaken, and Eliot reached out his hand to help him up. Quentin shook his head, and crawled away from Eliot until his back hit the wall. It was one of those nights. 

Eliot slid to the floor and sat cross legged, sitting facing the wall instead of Quentin. He didn’t move, just hummed softly. It took a while, longer than it normally did, before Quentin came back to him, pushing into his arms and laying his head against his shoulder. 

“I’m a mess.”

Eliot hummed softly, not giving explicit agreement, but acknowledging Quentin’s words. Quentin trembled in his arms, and buried his head against Eliot’s neck.

“I just don’t believe it’s real sometimes. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and I’m going to be back there.”

“Never again, Q. I’m never letting anyone hurt you again.” Eliot promised, low and sure and Quentin just shook harder. 

“That’s not fair to you, El. You’re always taking care of me and I’m-”

“Shhh,” Eliot hushed him with a finger over his mouth before Quentin got too far in his own head, “I’ve been waiting for years to take care of you.”

Quentin scoffed against his shoulder, and Eliot rejoiced at even that small show of spirit. He shifted Quentin in his lap, turning him so Eliot could face him. He waited until Quentin was looking at him, then he gently cradled his face in his hands, keeping him from looking away.

“About three years ago you told me that it didn’t matter what a mess I was, do you remember?”

“El, that’s not-” Quentin cut off at Eliot’s gentle squeeze of his cheeks, and swallowed before speaking again, “Yeah, I remember.”

“That’s good Q, because I feel the same as I did back then.” Eliot leaned in to press their foreheads together, and just enjoyed sharing the same air as Quentin, “I’m still a mess Q, because I lost you. But you told me then you could wait for me to ready, and I want us to move forward together, just like we did then. Do you think there’s even a chance we can do that?”

Quentin was crying again, but Eliot was pretty sure they were happy tears this time. He threw his arms around Eliot’s neck and held him as tightly as he could without choking him.

“That’s all I wanted El.”

==

Quentin had already been seeing a therapist a couple times a week. Now he went an extra day, with Eliot at his side. The joint sessions seemed to be the ones most likely to lead into a bad day, and it was hard not to dread them for that reason. Quentin had a hard time sharing what he’d been through in front of Eliot, still waiting on some level for Eliot to reject him. Eliot for his part was doing his best to be supportive without enabling, all while working through his own trauma from the experience. It helped that they both really liked Quentin’s new therapist, a pretty girl named Fen who seemed meek at first, but was made of steel under her gentle exterior. She helped teach a self defence class twice a week, and she’d invited Quentin to attend whenever he was ready. 

After that first hard month, Quentin started working on getting his tattoos removed. First to go were all the symbols that had allowed the Beast to steal his magic. Quentin had left the ones that blocked his own magic. He said he just didn’t trust his control with as shaky as he felt, and his doctor had recommended he avoid any casting for the first few months anyways. In the meantime Eliot was more than happy to do whatever magic needed doing, but really Quentin was learning to manage just fine without. 

Another month passed, and now Margo and Josh could show up to the apartment whenever they wanted, no call ahead necessary. Quentin still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of being out in crowds again, but he was starting to make short drives himself instead of insisting on Eliot chauffeuring him everywhere. He’d also started going to Josh’s during the week when Eliot had to get some work done. Josh kept a small greenhouse in the backyard, and was all too happy for help tending to the plants. Quentin seemed to find the work and being surrounded by green, growing things relaxing. It made Eliot’s chest hurt in the best way when Quentin came home humming tunelessly to himself, still smelling like the sun and dirt, and a small pleased smile on his face. 

==

At three months post-Beast, Eliot sat Quentin down at the kitchen table, both hands held in his, and Quentin thought, this is it, this is when he tells me he’s tired of this, that he’s leaving. It was still scary, but Quentin felt strong enough to survive. Instead Eliot told him it was time to get his magic back. Quentin almost laughed in relief, and Eliot watched him with a secret smile. 

“And Quentin? I love you.”

Quentin looked to Eliot, eyes shining and mouth just slightly agape. Eliot leaned in and squeezed his hands gently. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was a dumb kid, out of my mind with jealousy that you were sleeping with the pretty blonde witch instead of me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been telling you every day.”

“I wasn’t ready to hear it,” Quentin whispered, and Eliot smiled.

“Maybe. But I wasted a lot of time not telling you how I felt, and I’m not going to waste anymore now that I have you back.”

Quentin could feel the smile as it inched across his face, and he felt whole in a way he hadn’t in a long time. 

“I love you too,” he whispered, over and over again, punctuating each one with a kiss.

==

Four months in, and Quentin demanded they stop having their groceries delivered. He accompanied Josh to the farmer’s market, to stands by the docks full of fresh fish, and went to the grocery store for anything else they needed, as long as it was early in the morning when it wasn’t very busy. He’d started taking the self defence classes Fen had recommended, and Margo had helped him practice some of her favorite spells to repel asshole guys at the bar. Eliot still worried, and discreetly tailed Quentin the first few times he went out, but the pride in Quentin’s eyes at his progress was the best thing he’d ever seen. 

At five months Quentin backpedaled into old patterns, refusing to leave the apartment, not sleeping or eating, and making himself a bed in the guest room closet. For all that enclosed spaces had been a source of terror over recent months, sometimes he craved the familiar. It took two weeks, a lot of long tearful conversations, and a couple of home visits from Fen that included a new medicine regime, but finally he crept out one night, curling into Eliot’s side and not letting go.

At six months Eliot brought home a dog named Gerald, complete with a vest and a class schedule, and Quentin found it easier to breathe. He liked to surprise Eliot by walking to his work and bringing him lunch. If Eliot didn’t have any urgent work to be done, Quentin would hang around for a while. On the really good days Quentin would crawl into Eliot’s lap and kiss him until they were both out of breath and Quentin wanted nothing more than to be bent over the desk, but Eliot never pushed him, and Quentin didn’t quite know how to articulate those feelings yet. Sometimes, Quentin wished Eliot wasn’t quite so patient. 

==

At nine months, Quentin finally got sick of waiting. It was a Saturday, and they’d slept in, feeling languid and relaxed after a night of spring thunderstorms. Quentin hadn’t had a nightmare in over a month. Eliot had gotten so successful he’d had to hire another assistant, an overeager minion he called Todd even though Quentin was almost positive that wasn’t his real name. Quentin had graduated from his self defense classes, and was only going to see Fen twice a month. He was going back to school in the fall. Eliot had thrown away his enchanted flask and hadn’t even had a drink in months. Everything felt good. 

So when Eliot went to the kitchen to make some tea, Quentin decided it was time to take action on the last thing they were missing. He made sure Gerald was occupied with food and water in the guest room, and when Eliot came back to the room, Quentin met him naked and hard.

“Uh, Q?” Eliot gulped, frozen in the door and trying very gallantly to keep his eyes on Quentin’s face. It was sweet, but Quentin was very tired of gallant. 

“Yes, El?”

“You’re…” Eliot trailed off, powerless in the face of all the skin he’d been missing for years. 

“I am,” Quentin nodded, and trying not to laugh. 

“I didn’t, um, I wasn’t sure-” Eliot fumbled their tea mugs, almost dropping them, and Quentin bit his lip to fight back his laughter. Eliot set the mugs on the dresser, and Quentin was going to have words with him later about not using a coaster, but that was later. 

“Well, I’m sure.” Quentin declared, making a come hither gesture that Eliot was helpless to ignore. He paused, in Quentin’s space but not quite touching him, hands fluttering over his hips, and Quentin wanted so badly for him just to take. 

“Q, are you sure?” Eliot asked once more, and he was serious, loving and gentle in all the ways that had helped Quentin to heal. The glow in his chest wasn’t enough this time though.

“Yes, I’m sure El. Now hurry up and fuck me before I have to do it myself.”

Eliot met his eyes, saw his resolve, and then he gave Quentin that wicked smile that Quentin had adored so much when they were younger. Eliot swooped in to pick Quentin up and deposit him on the bed. He had made Quentin wait a long time, but he made up for it again and again and again.

==

At one year, they stood at the site of Julia’s old coven. The building had since been torn down, and there was a monument erected in honor of the victims. It was beautiful, a simple tower engraved with the names of the dead. Julia had told Quentin someone had suggested a butterfly statue and she’d almost ripped their head off. It was the first time all five of the survivors had been together since they’d been freed, and it was clearly making them a little uneasy. 

They were all silent, fidgeting, not knowing what to say or how to talk to each other outside of stone walls, but they’d all felt the importance of being here today. Julia stepped forward first, laying her flowers at the base of the statue, and brushing her fingers over Marina’s name. 

“I know she was a bitch, but she really saved us all.”

“Don’t get sentimental,” Kady warned with half a smile, “she would hate that.”

It broke the tension, and they were able to speak. Stories were told, some through laughter, some through tears, of all the ones they had known and lost. Alice, wrists and hands scarred but healed, sobbed while she told them stories about the glass horses Charlie had made for her as a child. Penny shared some stories about Victoria, who he’d been imprisoned next to before Marina died. Eliot mentioned how he’d met Josh, and he could see in Penny’s face that he was interested, and he made a note to introduce them. Victoria had been important to them both, and it would be good for both of them to talk about her. There were more flowers, and at the end there were hugs and promises to keep in touch that might actually be kept this time around. 

Julia held onto Quentin the longest, whispering in his ear, and Quentin laughed quietly at whatever she had said. Eliot wasn’t jealous, but he was more than a little ready to get away from the creepy monument that represented the worst part of his life. 

“Hey, Hoo-lia, get your hands off my husband!” 

Quentin glared at him, but the resulting shriek from Julia was worth it. She looked between the two of them, and Eliot waved at her, the golden band around his finger shining in the sun. Julia scrambled to grab Quentin’s hand, and he sighed like it was a bother, but they both knew Quentin lived to show his wedding band off. What he really liked was Eliot calling him husband in bed, but he thought that could remain private. At least from Julia. He’d called Margo to tell her all about it the first time it happened. 

“I kind of can’t believe you assholes got married and didn’t invite us,” Kady told him with an elbow to his side, “Congratulations I guess.”

“Aww, thanks Kady. It was kind of an impulse thing, but we’ll have a big reception for our fiftieth anniversary, so try not to die or get too wrinkly before then.”

“Fiftieth anniversary huh? You’re pretty confident.” She teased, smile soft and pleased. 

“Sometimes, you really just do know.” he told her, looking between her and Penny pointedly. Quentin returned to his side, flushed and grumbling, and he settled when Eliot wrapped an arm over his shoulder and kissed his temple. Yeah, he was ready for fifty more years of this.

==

“So when did you know?” Quentin asked that night while Eliot was brushing his teeth.

“Hmph?” Eliot asked and spit out his toothpaste. 

“What you told Kady, that you just know. When did you know? About me?” 

Quentin was leaning against the bathroom doorway, soft and sleepy in Eliot’s t-shirt, hair thrown back in a sloppy bun, his ring a beacon on his hand that Eliot adored. Eliot pondered the years, all the pain and the fear, but the joy and the laughter too. He thought of making a choice, over and over, to be true, to heal, to move forward even when it hurt. He thought of Quentin, who hogged all the sheets then laid on top of Eliot at night, who bought the dog nicer sweaters than he bought himself, and how he always managed to burn the coffee. He tried to picture one perfect moment where it all came together, and he smiled when he remembered. 

“Do you remember when we were still at Brakebills, and I finally got my shit together enough to ask you out to a read dinner for the first time? I was about the happiest I’d been, basically ever, and then you kissed me and somehow everything was better.” 

“Peaches and plums.” Quentin is beaming at him, and Eliot will never get tired of this, not in fifty years, not in a hundred, not in a thousand.

“That’s right. Peaches and plums motherfucker. Peaches and plums.”

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic consisted of Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier on repeat. Many thanks to tumblr users el-and-q, magicallyobsessedclinicallydepressed, and oxnerds for the editing work. 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://titaniumplatedspine.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/titaniumplatedspine)


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